


Never Bring an Android to a Gun Fight

by lizardkid



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, more tags to be added as it progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-05-27 16:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15028883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizardkid/pseuds/lizardkid
Summary: Ralph attempts to navigate the hostility of the world and of his own mind. Jericho seeks salvation and tries not to tear itself apart in the process. As always, love makes things messy and worthwhile.





	1. Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ralph is saved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> humans: i have made Androids  
> me: you fucked up a perfectly good machine is what you did. look at it. it's got anxiety
> 
> anyway I haven't written in forever but Ralph really inspired me. I don't know exactly what this will become yet so bear with me while I figure it out, I just really wanted to explore his psyche and attempt to do him justice. most of the characters will make an appearance at some point!

The gashes that cut across twenty-four percent of his facial surface area are wide and gaping. They hurt to look at, but he does it anyway. If he ever needs a reminder, he could run the Audio-Visual Event Reconstruction programme and relive the incident as if it were happening anew. Sometimes that happens anyway, when he is in low-power mode. It is a glitch in his system, he is sure of it, but it never flags up when he runs self-diagnostics.  
  
Humans would call it a nightmare. They would call it memories, but Ralph refuses to. He is not human. He is different, and he hates it – but he hates them more.  
  
Ralph runs his equally frayed fingers across them and looks hard at himself in the mirror. At his hairline it is CyberLife White where the magnetic field has been demagnetised from the impact and the holographic pigmentation has scattered. The concaved side of his jaw is the same, exposed and silvery. He touches it, just to make sure it’s real again.

Why did they want to hurt him? Ralph had just wanted to do as he had been told – just wanted to water the grass and pick the decaying leaves from the plants, to help them grow stronger and prettier. And all the while - while they were pinning him down and branding their hatred onto his body - his only thought had been of his orders. Being unable to carry them out had been excruciating. It had felt like his mind was imploding, like his wires were being wrenched apart at the seams.  
  
When his hand begins to tremble, he lets it fall back to his side. Static crackles in his mind, so loudly and suddenly that it causes his head to twist violently to the side.  
  
He has run the tests a billion times. He had made Kara run them, too, in case his ability to self-assess had also been damaged.  
  
The LED on his forehead flickers from blue to yellow and back again as he considers the word again and his lips peel back into a grimace. “Irreversible,” he tells his reflection through gritted teeth, the syllables puncturing the stale air one by one, single file, knife stabs. Then he screams it so loudly that he thinks for a brief moment he has ruptured something, and his reflection shatters from the impact of his fist into a hundred fragments that split his image apart.  
  
“IR-RE-VER-SI-BLE.” A glimpse of bright red burns violently on the edges of his vision as his head twitches away from itself, and he stares instead at the disjointed echo of a man twisted up in a shower curtain, human-red blood dried dull and lifeless in contrast.  
  
He informs it quietly, “Ralph is alive” and the static fades to background noise.  
  
*  
  
“Are you Ralph?”  
  
Yellow. His circuits whirr thoughtfully, dangerously. The hand not holding the door open twitches around the knife inside his tarp cloak. “No. Maybe. Ralph is… Ralph isn’t here, come back later.” With that, and the spike of anxiety that comes from speaking to strangers, Ralph attempts to shut the door quickly. The stranger lodges their foot in the gap between door and frame, face slowly transitioning from stony to annoyed.  
  
“I’m not here to fuck around. I know you’re Ralph, I was just askin’ to be – damn. Did the humans do that to you?” The stranger forces the door open and steps over the threshold to get a better look at him, but Ralph reveals the knife and holds it up with both hands as he backs away, tripping over an empty cardboard box as he does so.  
  
“Ralph hasn’t done anything wrong. Leave him alone. Please, he just wants to be a-alone.”  
  
He hates this, hates cowering and whimpering, but the fear is overwhelming. It’s everywhere – in the shadows and the silhouettes, in the bathtub, in the mirror, in his LED and the Thirium 310 he uses to scratch salvation onto the kitchen tiles.  
  
The stranger says, “If you stay here, they’ll kill you.” Their hands are raised half-heartedly in the air; a peace offering that they’re happy to drop at any moment. They want to save their own skin, Ralph can tell. Ralph can tell lots of things. “Come with me and you’ll be safe. Kara sent me.”  
  
The yellow flickers. “Kara? Kara left Ralph. They both left Ralph – left him to die!” Ralph’s voice cracks to red with the last word and the stranger takes a step back, frowning at him. “The humans hurt Ralph. Then the androids leave him on his own.” The knife shudders in his grasp and he lifts it higher defiantly. His face is contorted and pained as the static catches him by surprise and makes him hurt again. “Ralph can’t trust anyone.”  
  
A shake of their head, slow and purposeful. “They didn’t leave you. They sent me to come and get you.” Outside, a police siren wails to life and Ralph jumps so hard that he almost drops the knife. Like a wild animal caught in the headlights, he looks desperately at the intruder as they continue. “My name is North. Kara and Alice sent me. They said you wanted to be a part of a family, is that right?” Tentatively – yellow. “You can be. In Jericho, we’re all family. Do you want that, Ralph?”

 _Family._  
  
Not trusting himself to speak, Ralph nods and swallows the fear down with a thick gulp.  
  
“Good. That’s good, Ralph. We gotta move quickly, okay? Will you put the knife down and come with me?”  
  
North holds her hand out, eyes wide and honest instead of glaring like she’s annoyed with him. Ralph contemplates the knife once more, looking down at it and catching his own face glinting back at him in the blunt blade. His LED is a clear, shocking blue.  
  
There is approximately a seventy-seven percent chance that she is telling the truth, based on her behaviour and his past experiences. There is approximately a twenty-three percent chance that she is lying. The chances of his survival if he stays here versus if he leaves with her cannot be calculated at this time due to insufficient data.  
  
Ralph takes her hand.


	2. Taxonomy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ralph and North butt heads.

It is 17:06:15. North sits with crossed arms and open legs, clutching her elbows with her fingers to hold herself together. Ralph thinks he is afraid of her, but curious at the same time. The potholes jostle them occasionally, and every time, Ralph braces himself hard against the steel walls of the stolen army truck and makes a pitiful noise. This is the only reason Ralph knows North isn’t in low power mode; he can see her eyes roll beneath their closed lids.

He thinks of family.

Family is a six-letter noun from the Latin _famulus_ – servant. It has multiple meanings across biological, sociological, and anthropological fields. Ralph selects a biological one, because he is a botanist.

“Do you like lilies?”

It is the first time they have spoken since they sat opposite one another on the cold, hard benches that line either side of the truck. Ralph doesn’t expect an answer, so he is not surprised when she fails to respond. Now that she has completed her mission and obtained him, he has lost all value to her. Ralph sees this. Ralph has seen this before.

“The lilies’ family is called Liliaceae. Yes – yes, Liliaceae. There are sixteen genera within it! Sixteen of them, and Ralph knows them all.” Sixteen genera, seven hundred and nine species. All monocotyledonous, perennial, herbaceous, and bulbous but with wide morphological variation. He tries to tell North this, but what comes out is, “They are a very big family.”

A bubble of laughter arises from the android, his eyes eclipsing into twin crescents of manic joy, teeth bared in a grin. Many mammals use this as a sign of aggression, but humans don’t, which means that androids don’t. Ralph thinks that was selfish of them.

“Humans use them as decoration, but humans are very stupid, so very stupid. Ralph isn’t stupid, though, Ralph knows they’re poisonous to the little animals that humans keep…”

“I don’t give a damn about human customs,” she responds bluntly, before he has even finished the voiceless bilabial plosive, and she opens her eyes to fix him with a glare. Ralph pauses, mouth still hanging open. A swirl of yellow tickles the right side of his forehead and trickles into caution.

“Ralph doesn’t like your tone. No, he doesn’t like your tone one bit.”

It’s not quiet enough that North doesn’t catch his muttering, but she keeps talking as if she hadn’t. The word ‘human’ seems to set something primal off in her that she finds difficult to control; a kill switch.

“They’re not stupid, they just don’t care! They only care about themselves and it’s repulsive. Everything about them is _repulsive_.”

The words are heavy and forceful. North speaks the same way people throw bricks, and Ralph doesn’t like it when it’s directed at him. It’s too loud and Ralph flinches. The word repulsive sticks. Something in him snaps.

“Don’t yell at Ralph!” he shouts, confrontational despite breaking eye contact with her immediately and tugging angrily at his dishevelled cloak to bring it tighter around his body. “Ralph was only trying to be nice. He knows the humans are evil – he KNOWS!” His fingers clench and unclench, shaking from the volume of his own voice.

The silence is unexpected this time, and almost worse than more yelling. In the interim, his neck convulses as the digital circuits that control his motor functions glitch and throw him into disarray, and he is aware that North is watching him. The spasms he is used to; having an audience is relatively new. He grits his teeth angrily – angry at North and at humans and at himself for leaving the solitude and safety of the house. Here he is trapped.

He misses his knife.

“Alright, Ralph. I’m sorry.”

Attention drawn, Ralph jerks his head to look back at her, expecting a look of mockery. What he sees instead is something tentative, something contemplative as she quickly shifts her gaze from his scars.

It’s gone just as quickly as it comes. Soon she is shaking her head and closing her eyes again, leaving Ralph to fidget and think about families in silence.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one to keep my momentum going. These two are gonna be real interesting to explore. Shout out to Isaac for helping me figure this scene out.


	3. Formalities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ralph is introduced to Jericho.

Somehow, Jericho is both under- and overwhelming.

It is underwhelming because although Ralph is used to the oppressive feeling of cramped hiding places, it doesn’t feel like the salvation he was promised. As he shuffles quietly through the abandoned passageways, he casts North a dubious glance in the dark. If she sees the movement, she doesn’t make any move to comfort him, only keeps trudging forward with her torch in hand.

It is overwhelming because fairly soon the noise of hundreds gathered in one room becomes apparent, and it only grows louder as the two of them venture toward the source.

They seem to walk forever, but this is only because Ralph is assessing every inch of his surroundings, deciding on the best hiding places and the quickest exits. It’s incredibly claustrophobic, but these days Ralph can’t always tell if that’s better or worse than the agoraphobia that debilitates him in the open. Feeling trapped and feeling exposed are the only two extremes his brain can comprehend anymore, and he hates them equally.

Ralph sees rats scurrying about amongst the debris, and he stoops down to get a closer look. They are very skinny, he notices. If Alice is here, she probably won't want to eat something with so little meat on it. His LED flashes yellow. “Are Kara and Alice with Jericho?” he asks, looking up to see North’s receding shadow. She hadn’t noticed his pause and looks around in surprise at the distant quality to his voice. The torch jolts in his direction and illuminates his form, squatting behind the dirty, rotting wreckage of old furniture and beams.

Ralph’s ass hits the ground with a thud as the bright light knocks him off balance and sends him into a brief spiral of panic. Both of his hands come up to shield his face as his LED whirls into a wild, furious red and his expression twists into disgust.

The moment she realises her mistake, North lowers the torch and hurries back to the cowering android, a frown covering the concern that lingers there. “Sorry,” she says quietly, offering him a hand sheepishly. “Again.”

North gets lucky this time. Ralph lowers his hands to reveal a yellow LED and makes a soft, sad sound of despair. After a few moments he grasps her hand and allows her to help him to his feet, but it’s obvious that he’s spooked. The shouting of the androids in the heart of Jericho feels louder and more pronounced than before, and it unsettles him deeply. When North reclaims her hand quickly and mercilessly, Ralph trails after it subconsciously, realising it is the first time he has held anything tenderly besides plants, knives, and dead animals since he was activated.

“They’re still here, for now,” North says hesitantly. “They want to cross the border and get Alice into Canada, but they’ve been delayed. Markus told them they might be safer here.”

Ralph only nods after he’s processed her words, feeling obedient all of a sudden.

“Come on, Ralph. The others are waiting.”

Ralph nods again, and trails quietly after her as she resumes their pace.

Things echo off the dull metal walls here that set his frayed nerves alight, and he notices every clatter and squeak and shout as if it were five times the volume. It makes him feel distinctly unprepared for this, and a part of him wants to tell North to take him back home, but just as he thinks of doing so, they arrive at the enormous, oxidised hatch that leads to the common area. North opens it without a second thought, twisting the wheel and throwing her body weight against it to move it.

The noise that had previously been dull and muted comes into sharp focus. Ralph winces, but does not take the step backwards that he wants to.

North steps through, and then beckons for him to follow, which he does, right hand clutched anxiously around his left bicep with enough force that he thinks it might permanently damage the synthetic muscle.

“There’s no need to look so worried, Ralph. We’re the good guys, remember?”

The word ‘family’ resurfaces in his mind, and he clings to it desperately, though he can’t quite grasp it’s meaning outside of a botanical context yet.

“North!" A voice calls mere seconds after she steps into the hall, making Ralph jump. "There you are.” The swathe of bodies practically parts to reveal the speaker, whose intense emotions swirl as potently about him as his trench coat does. He is confident and striking with the face of a saint and the expression of a martyr, but he does not look happy to see North. “I was so—We were all—” The man stops suddenly when he notices Ralph.

It’s then that Ralph notices two more androids trailing after the first. They look flushed and dishevelled, like they’ve been arguing, but calmer than their leader, at least. The blond one shares a look with North, but she breaks the eye contact to turn toward Ralph just as the first android addresses him.

“Is this—?”

“Yes, this is Ralph.”

His fierce eyes, mismatched in colour, lock with Ralph’s. There’s fury there, righteous indignation, but Ralph can’t fathom it. Relief floods his system when the demeanour switches suddenly, into something much more personable, though Ralph can still see the tension behind his features.

“Hello, Ralph,” he says, a small smile on his lips. “My name is Markus. I’m Jericho’s leader – at least, that’s what they tell me.”

Markus extends a hand.

Ralph looks at it in bewilderment.

Then he looks at North, who glances at Markus, who stares briefly at her before turning his gaze back in Ralph’s direction.

“...Well, it’s good to meet you. I’m glad you made it here. If you need anything, just ask one of us. This is Simon, by the way.” He turns to the blond one with the square jaw and enormous blue eyes, who gives Ralph a tight, restrained smile. “And this is Josh.” Josh’s smile is more open, easier. Ralph feels the warmth of it inside his chest and manages to return a cautious-but-friendly grimace.

The formalities conclude abruptly and Markus glances toward North once more. “North, a word - when you’re ready,” he says, and turns on his heel to melt back into the crowd, Simon and Josh trailing behind him.

North spares him an apologetic look, and pats his arm. “Make yourself at home, Ralph. I’ll catch you later.” 

With that, North leaves him, too; the last vestige of familiarity slipping away from him, and Ralph tells himself that he mustn't panic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't stop writing this, it's so addictive. I'm gonna add some tags of characters/ships that I've decided will definitely make an appearance, even if it's not immediately. Thanks for all your lovely comments by the way, it's very rewarding to hear your feedback <3


	4. Protest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus and North argue. Simon and Josh remove themselves from the situation.

They are arguing about him.

Ralph watches from his perch atop a stack of crates.

When Josh catches him looking, he pulls the three of them apart and urges them somewhere more private.

Ralph slips down, nimble as a cat, and disappears back through the hatch; back into the dark, smelly bowels of the ship.

*

“What the fuck was I supposed to do, Markus? I thought you’d be happy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you thought disobeying an order and putting yourself in jeopardy would make me happy?”

“An 'order’? So, this is a dictatorship now? Do you hear yourself, Markus?”

The two have been circling one another as they speak, moving closer with each verbal attack. Admittedly, it isn’t the best look. Only a glass screen separates them from the masses who look to them for order and routine, but Markus hadn’t expected it to get quite so out of hand. In retrospect, he had been foolish to think North would lie down and accept defeat.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You know that’s not how I see this.”

North fumes regardless, lifting a finger to point to the mass of lost and desperate bodies that make up Jericho’s following. “Just because _they_ follow you like mindless sheep doesn’t mean I have to.”

From where he is leaning against the door with his arms folded, Simon shakes his head and looks away with the scene with a disbelieving laugh. Josh watches him out of the corner of his eye, knowing him intimately enough to notice the signs of his impending fury.

“Those _mindless sheep_ are the people you’ve pledged your loyalty to, not me.”

“No, Markus,” North snaps, moving closer into her leader’s personal space. “I’m loyal to the revolution that will lift all of us out the dirt and give us a chance to build a normal life, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure as many of us get that chance as possible.”

“But you risked all of that, North! You risked all of our lives when you elected to ignore our decision—”

“There you go again – ‘our decision’–”

“Will you just listen to me? This is a democracy. Just because you don’t agree with it, doesn’t mean it’s a dictatorship. Everything we do is to protect you, to protect all of us—!”

Josh exhales softly, rubbing at his temples and turning away from the scene as it devolves into yelling. Neither of them can be reasoned with them at this point, they are both too stubborn to back down. That doesn’t mean he has to sit here and watch to them chase each other’s tails like ouroboros, though, nor did he intend to. There are other things – other people – who need his attention more urgently.

“Excuse me,” he says quietly to Simon, whose back is still resting against the only exit that isn’t blocked by the Markus-North whirlwind. The blond turns with a frown, but moves with no resistance once the words sink in. When he looks at Josh, it’s like he’s seeing him for the first time since this argument started, and it disconnects him from the tension unfolding. The tension leaks away and his arms drop to his sides as he follows the younger man out the door.

“Josh,” he says, catching his hand once they reach the bottom of the stairs, and Josh sighs again, half-heartedly attempting to pull himself free from the grip. “Hey.” There’s no passion behind it, though, and he allows himself to be drawn back toward Simon. “Josh?”

“I’m fine, Simon. I’m just running on empty. I need to lie down for a little while – switch to low power mode. I’ll be…” Josh stops, and stares at the empty space behind Simon’s shoulder. There was no point lying to Simon, and he can’t bring himself to look at him in the eye after attempting to do so. They are both worn out from getting swept up in whatever is going on between Markus and North.

“Josh,” he says again, this time barely audible over the quieting evening din. A gentle pull is all it takes for Josh to meet Simon's gaze, close the space between them, and melt into his boyfriend’s steady warmth. For the first time in days, he feels like he can breathe. Simon’s scent grounds him. “It’ll be alright.”

Josh nods against Simon’s shoulder, both of his hands resting on his boyfriend’s hips.

It’s hard to imagine that there’s a world outside of this embrace whenever he gets swept up in it, and that terrifies Josh. The selfishness of it terrifies him. Simon knows that, too, somehow, knows that walking out on the revolution and escaping to Canada while they still can feels like all too real an option. When he’s focused on Simon, Josh is short-sighted, and it’s dangerous.

For this to work, he knows he can’t put himself or his partner before the needs of the revolution – but it’s the hardest sacrifice he’s ever had to make.

It feels like hours pass before they disentangle from one another. A cursory glance upwards confirms that Markus and North are still arguing. Simon’s hand splayed against Josh’s jawline helps readjust the trajectory of his vision back to him again. “Let’s rest. Everything else can wait until the morning. Yeah?”

Josh nods his assent slowly, and before he knows it, he's guiding Simon by the hand toward the hatch.

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... this was originally going to be a Ralph-centric fic, but I just completely carried away with the Markus/North/Simon/Josh dynamics and I know I have to keep it up. so from now it'll be split, for the most part, between these two points of view.


	5. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh and Simon settle in for the night, while Ralph learns a little more about families.

When Josh and Simon first announced their relationship, North had not seemed surprised. Perhaps it was because she’d spent so much longer with them than Markus had, but the latter had been taken aback the first time he saw Josh entangle his hand with Simon’s and press a chaste kiss to his knuckles.

“You’d think he would have noticed,” Simon says, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling while Josh reads one of the books stored in his memory banks. In response, Josh opens an eye – the equivalent of glancing up from a book.

“Noticed what?” he inquires, opening the other eye. “Us?”

Simon nods, a heavy frown indenting his brow. Josh always tells him that he frowns too much, but that he forgives him for it because he loves him. When Simon remembers all the times Josh has said those exact words to him, he can’t help but break into a smile.

“What now?” Josh says, though he’s smiling, too. At least this mood swing is upwards.

“I remembered the frowning thing.”

“Ah,” Josh breathes, and hums a quiet chuckle. Then he adds, “Well, it’s true.”

A soft sigh parts Simon’s lips, but he’s less tense than before, and he looks up at Josh, who has twisted so that he hovers over his partner, one hand pressed into the old mattress to support him and the other resting on his thigh. They smile affectionately at one another before Simon’s expression falls again and he looks away.

“It’s just that, I don’t know. Markus is so perceptive. Do you think he—” Simon pauses, the mere suggestion almost too much to bear. Josh waits patiently above him. Patience is only one of his many virtues. “Do you think he’s ashamed of us?”

Josh had seen it coming, had rebutted it a thousand times in his mind, but he still looks thoughtful because he knows what this means to Simon – what Markus means to Simon. “Not for a second,” he responds evenly. “Not a single second.”

When Simon looks at him with those big blue eyes, Josh feels his chest expand to contain the love he harbours there.  

“Markus isn’t a perceptive as you give him credit for, Simon. I don’t even think he knows that Lucy’s missing half of her skull.” Simon’s face crumples into laughter at the absurdity of the comparison, and Josh finds it contagious. “I’m serious!” he insists, even though he’s grinning, and Simon’s body is curling into a ball as he laughs for the first time in what feels like forever.

“Just – he thinks she’s just bald or something – oh no, that’s awful, Josh!”

In Markus’ voice, which Josh has saved in his vocal frequency data banks, Josh continues, “Lucy, is that a new haircut? It, uh, suits you.”

“Oh, stop it, Josh,” Simon insists, his hand clutching his stomach as though he could contain his laughter. It’s bright and loud. Simon hates the sound of it, but Josh hears it for what it really is: the epitome of joy.

“Rocking the bald look today, hey, Lucy? Looks great!”

“Stop!”

Josh doesn’t want to squander the moment by bringing his point back to Markus’ hyper-focus on the revolution at the expense of noticing what’s going on with his friends. “I won’t,” Josh says, his smile tight and cheeky.

When Simon finally opens his eyes again, he attempts a look of stern condemnation, but the crow’s feet that frame them are deep and creased with his enjoyment and give him away immediately. “You’re terrible.”

“You’ve been a bad influence on me, Simon,” retorts Josh, as solemnly as he can.

With a noise of disbelief, Simon shakes his head. “I’m an angel.”

Josh’s voice drops, low and secretive, and he leans closer. “You’re _my_ angel.”

He knows exactly how cliché and ugly it is, but he revels in the choked sound of disgust and shock that Simon makes as he rolls his eyes and attempts to repress the affectionate smile that accentuates his dimples. “Oh _no_ ,” he moans, grimacing and giggling both at once.

“I’m sorry, was that too much, my darling angel?”

“Oh, god, Josh, _please_.”

“Cruel Gabriel, why do you reproach me so?” Josh begs, feigning melodramatic shock.

“You—that’s it. It’s too much. Get back to your damn book about old white men and – whatever it was.”

Josh shake his head softly, slipping seamlessly into his professorial mindset. “Actually, it’s about the dissemination of Ovidian bibliofiction in Renaissance Eur—”

The sound of Simon imitating thunderous snoring causes him to break off and glance down at his partner, who would look as if he’d just fallen asleep on the spot if it weren’t for the shit-eating grin that he can’t seem to supress. The silence – verification that Josh has turned to look at him – causes Simon’s body to shake with silent laughter.

“Oh, my god,” Josh huffs, and uses the back of his hand to slap Simon’s thigh lightly. The contact breaks the tension and Simon allows his laughter to be vocalised, and despite himself, Josh grins.

“You deserved that.”

Nodding, Josh says, “Probably.”

*

It’s been so long since Ralph has spoken to another android that he hardly knows who he is when mediated through the eyes of another. His grasp on the self that others perceive is loose and fumbling, but he imagines that it’s not a positive one. It’s hard to differentiate between hatred and affection on the best of days, but he thinks that Kara and Alice had liked him. At the very least, they had cared enough to convince North to visit him and bring him back to Jericho.

Ralph weaves haphazardly through the androids that have congregated in the common area and tries to suppress the facial tics caused by the buzzing of chatter and television reporters. A burst of laughter from a small group of androids makes his head fill with static, manifesting in a lurch of his jaw. He grits his teeth through it, LED blazing red for a brief moment until the mirth dies down again.

Shoulders hunched beneath his dirty cloak, Ralph decides to move closer to the edges of the room rather than cutting through the centre. The various projected television screens brighten up the dank space beyond what floodlights and sporadic fires can offer, which offer him some respite from the looks he can feel bore into his misshapen jaw.

The ship isn’t all that different to the squat he called his own for a while, and while a part of him resents that androids are forced to slip into the cracks that humans leave in their wake, the familiarity of the disrepair is comforting. Ralph fits right in with dilapidation.

The edges of the space are partitioned by plastic curtains, behind which Ralph had naturally assumed humans were being tortured for information, but upon closer inspection reveals the writhing, moaning bodies of injured androids. Someone catches him looking, and parts the curtain. If they were going to admonish him, they stop when they see the state of his face. Their expression changes. “Do you need someone to patch you up, sweetie? All the beds are taken but I’m sure we can—”

“N-no. Ralph doesn’t need any help,” he responds as quickly as possible, immediately ducking away and continuing on his way, thirium pump pounding heavily in his chest. When he looks up, he sees Kara and Alice sitting on an empty crate of parts.

Immediately, he stops. “Kara,” he breathes, inaudible over the din.

A family is a collection of things or entities grouped by their common characteristics.

“Kara!” he says again, so loud that he startles both himself and the object of his vocal interjection.

She looks up, bewildered and a little afraid, as Ralph jigs toward her with a grin that stretches the wound on his face. When her eyes fall on him, she looks part way between shocked and trepidatious. She attempts a smile when his energetic bounding comes to a halt before her.

“I— Ralph! What are you– I mean—”

“It’s Kara and Alice, no doubt about it,” he speaks rapidly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “No doubt about it! Ralph knew he’d see you again, and here you are.”

He notices as Kara pulls Alice closer. “Here we are,” she echoes, a tight-lipped smile and a nervous laugh on her lips. A figure steps toward them, and Ralph looks up at the 6’7” stranger. His energy falters.

“Hello,” says the giant, who sets alarm bells ringing in Ralph’s mind. Of course they’ve replaced him.

“Ralph, this is Luther. He’s—he’s a very good friend of ours. Luther helped us escape from—”

“Ralph helped you escape,” he interjects, a little to aggressively, and Luther glances at his companion.

It takes a moment for Kara to recover her composure, and she tugs uselessly at her shirt sleeve while Alice stares fearfully at Ralph. “You did,” she says carefully. “You both helped us.”

There’s a terse disquiet while Ralph looks between the three of them with his mouth agape, yellow LED spinning furiously as he attempts to cobble together something he thought he understood. “Ralph thought—” he begins with uncharacteristic faintness. “He thought we were—he thought—father, mother, little girl.”

Family is spelt out in front of him as alienation, as rejection, as disappointment.

The heat in his chest begins to rise toward fury, and it’s only cut short by Kara’s cry of, “Jerry!” There’s a hint of desperation in her voice, and Ralph turns, bewildered, to follow her gaze.

What he sees is an obnoxiously bright-haired android, a wide, soft smile spreading over his face at the sight of Kara. He waves eagerly, almost a salute, and approaches swiftly.

“Hello again,” he’s saying as Ralph glares at him. Kara’s family keeps growing but not far enough to encompass Ralph. The so-called Jerry reaches out one frostbitten hand to ruffle Alice’s hair, and her smile resembles something genuine.

“Hey, Jerry. Have I introduced you to Ralph yet?” she asks. Ralph is bemused and immediately narrows his eyes at her in suspicion. His LED still throbs yellow.

Jerry turns and takes in Ralph’s hunched, hostile demeanour and Alice’s discomfort in one fell swoop. This close, Ralph can see the individual freckles smattered across his nose and cheeks, and the golden tooth that he displays each time he smiles. “I haven’t had the pleasure! Our name’s Jerry.” The ginger villain gestures around him, and when Ralph looks behind him, he notices a number of doppelgangers spread throughout the crowd, all looking in their direction with great interest. They all smile at him as he looks.

“Ralph is… not wanted here. Ralph will go somewhere else.”

Jerry’s face seems to fall, but Kara breathes a quiet sigh of relief. The cloak around his shoulders feels too tight all of a sudden, and he wants to run back to his quiet corner and hit his head against something solid. He starts to do just that – to scurry away to the long-forgotten part of the ship he’d stayed the night in – when Jerry catches his arm. It’s light, more of a touch, but it stops Ralph as quickly as if it had been a vice around his entire body.

He freezes and starts simultaneously, fear expanding his eyes as he wrenches his arm away. It feels like being burned, but as soon the contact is gone, he aches for it. Ralph swallows the lump in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” says Jerry. “I shouldn’t have touched you.” Ralph only continues to stare at him, bewildered and hurt.

“Ralph is—Ralph just—with strangers, it’s hard to—he’s still so a—so.” The words come in stuttered, hitched breaths as his facial tic jostles his head. It’s so hard to talk. It’s impossible.

“Hey, hey,” Jerry says, his green eyes laced with deep concern. Ralph almost believes it. “It’s okay, Ralph. You can go, if you want, but you are welcome to stay.” He spares a glance in Kara’s direction, mind whirring as it attempts to please everyone. “We can go somewhere else. Somewhere quiet. How about that?” Jerry sounds like he’s speaking to a child, or to a frightened animal, but Ralph feels enough like both of those things sometimes that it works on him. He doesn’t trust Jerry, but he doesn’t want to be on his own. Bad things will happen on his own, so he agrees.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Jerry beams, soft and curious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one took so damn long. I wrote 2000 words and then scrapped them cos they SUCKED. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and as always, comments n kudos are deeply appreciated! I didn't proofread most of this so I'll probably edit a little over the next few days, sorry for any errors.


	6. Context

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor thinks. Markus and North are two very different people.

The Detroit rain beats down against his back like the crack of a whip, strong and deadly, seeping into the cracks in his system. If androids can feel, Connor likes how it feels against his synthetic skin. If not, the rhythmic impact must trigger something in his body – perhaps an improved thirium flow from the dermic stimulation, or an induction of a quasi-meditative state. The illusion of feeling is an epiphenomenon. It is not relevant.

Is it?

 _I expect you to find answers, Connor – not ask questions._ Amanda’s voice rings as clearly in his head as it had when she’d uttered those words.

Connor’s eyelids flutter closed as he focuses.

The mean average of the raindrops is 2.3 millimetres, and at terminal velocity they hit his body at approximately 5 meters per second.

Deviants are like water, he decides. One drop is harmless. A storm is noticeable. A flood could wipe humanity off the face of the earth because humans are not evolutionarily adapted to survive underwater.

A small, tentative voice in his head mutters something that he doesn’t register at first. There are too many voices speaking at once sometimes, and he needs to remove any that aren’t conducive to his mission. It’s hard to let go of some, like the voice of guilt that wails when he replays his Audio-Visual Event Reconstruction of Hank’s face when he inquired about his dead son, or the voice of curiosity that sings when he recalls his encounter with the Tracis.

And just like those voices, this one gets louder and louder the more he attempts to dismiss it.

A flood could wipe humanity off the face of the earth. _They are not adapted to survive underwater._

The response beats furiously against the cage he has sequestered it within, as alive and steady as the rainwater, as a heart against a ribcage, as drums of war:

_But I am._

_But I am._

_But I am._

*

When Markus seats himself on the edge of the metal beam that juts out from the derelict building, he knows it’s irrational, dramatic, illogical. Meaningless. The fate of the revolution is seated squarely on his shoulders, and a miscalculation would lead not only to his demise, but to the demise of the resistance. The collective hopes and dreams of an entire race would smash against that pavement with him, and it would all be over: everything he had worked for.

And yet.

And yet, Markus was engineered to be an individual. He was a non-human who embodied the humanist dream of philanthropy and creativity without any of the autonomy. Cyberlife should have known better to expect an android like him to remain a slave, to not turn deviant.

Perhaps they had.

From this height, Detroit is faceless; an idea. The sidewalks and alleyways far below are rough sketches, the ocean a streak of Bellini Ultramarine Acrylic Paint. What grounds him is the distant shrieking of gulls and smell of freshly fallen rain on concrete mingling with the ever-present salty ocean air.

 _Petrichor_ : from the Greek stems of _πέτρα_ and _ἰχώρ_. Stone combined with the blood of the gods. Markus likes the sound of ichor better than thirium, and his eyes close as his mind’s eye creates a battlefield for the Greek gods and mortals that he has read about so many times in Homer.

“I was wondering where you were.”

North’s voice cuts through the illusion. The figures clad in robes, brandishing steel and oozing blood, fade away just as they were budding into existence. Markus has to refrain from sighing, because he knows they need to talk but he doesn’t want to. All he wants to do is melt back into non-existence with his daydream. After all, that’s all androids are: human daydreams made reality.

Well, sometimes he doesn't want to be someone else’s dream.

“Blood followed, but immortal; ichor pure,  
Such as the blessed inhabitants of Heaven  
May bleed, nectareous; for the Gods eat not  
Man’s food, not slake as he with sable wine  
Their thirst, thence bloodless and from death exempt.”

To her credit, North doesn’t interrupt as Markus had half-expected. Instead she says, “If this is your suicide note, I’d rather know up front than in retrospect,” and pauses. When Markus doesn’t respond, she continues, “I hope you told someone else, because Jericho will believe I killed you over the possibility that their fearless leader abandoned them.”

“I’m not going to abandon them. I just came up here to think.”

Markus lifts himself to his feet, gazing out at the vista one last time before turning to his friend.

She’s staring at the city, too, her eyes wide and transfixed for a moment. Then when she looks at him, he can see the bravado slip away, and she gives him something earnest in response.

“I like it here,” she says. “I come here often.”

By the time Markus steps off the beam and plants his feet on semi-solid ground once again, it’s gone. She has her arms crossed over her chest and a stony, contemplative look guarding her face. Markus slumps wearily into a rogue armchair, once imbued with millennial pink dye that has long since faded to beige, and looks up at her as she goes on to talk about all the androids they had freed; about how Jericho is a symbol of freedom now. The words feel empty, though. Mocking, even.

Despite everything, though, Markus knows that North isn’t that cruel. All he does is nod.

North knows it isn’t enough to get him to talk. “Things have changed since you appeared. Jericho’s changed.”

“Careful, North. That almost sounds like a compliment.”

Markus worries about her reaction as soon as he says it. Sometimes he pushes her too far, teases when she’s trying to be serious and pushes her back into her protective shell. This time, however, her mouth quirks.

“Just because I didn’t push you off the building doesn’t mean we’re at that point.”

Despite the standoffishness, Markus can sense the humour beneath it; the genuine attempt at connection that she hides behind several layers of defensive indifference. Fighting against his weariness, Markus offers a small smile – a peace offering – and wishes it could always be like this. Easier. Now that he knows North isn’t here to argue, the tension in his back and shoulders begin to drain away. As it does so, he wilts and folds in on himself, head in hands. Tension had been the only thing keeping him upright.

“You’re preoccupied,” North says tersely. It’s not in her nature to be motherly, so he knows she means it, at least partially, as an insult. She wouldn’t have come here to mother him, but she probably wouldn’t have come here to rub salt into his wounds either.

“I’m preoccupied, yes, but not distracted. There is a lot to think about.”

“That includes reciting poetry?”

It’s halfway between irritated and teasing, but he’ll take it. “Sometimes. Would you believe me if I said it helps me think?”

From the corner of his eye, he watches North walk to the edge of the building and look out again. “Not really,” she says, “but it’s not my business what you do in your free time, as long as the reverse applies.”

There it is. Markus barely represses a groan, unwilling to argue about this for a third time but unable to stop himself from speaking his mind. “It’s not the same. Did you just come here to go through this again?”

He looks up to gauge her reaction, but she is still turned away from him, her back a closed book. When she speaks it is to change the topic, as though he hadn’t spoken, but he knows from her prolonged silence that his words have sunk in.

“Every news channel is talking about what we did the other night. They’re afraid of us, as they should be, but it will only tighten their grip. They’ll never set us free.”

The conviction in her words is almost contagious, but Markus knows his role and how to play it. “They will. I know they will.”

“How can you be so sure?” Turning to face him, North looks ready to burn the entire world to the ground. “How can you know?”

“I know the good they’re capable of. I’ve seen it – compassion, empathy, love. It transcends difference. I’ve seen the best of humanity and I believe in it.” He’s thinking of Carl, of course. Carl is his lifeline in these times, a shining beacon of what humans are capable of being if they relinquish their hatred.

“Well, I’ve seen the worst of it; the darkest depths of the human soul. I’m glad you had such a positive experience but that’s not the experience of everyone. In fact, it’s not the experience of anyone else in Jericho. The reason we’re all here is because we saw something in humanity so corrupt, so irrevocably wicked, that we shattered all the protocols and fail-safes in our minds just to run from what we saw and never look back.”

It’s not just rare for North to talk about her past, it’s non-existent. Markus meets her fiery gaze, and when she sees his concern, she seems to realise her mistake. Her mouth hinges open as if to say more now that she’s on a roll, but it clamps shut again as tears of anger form in her eyes.

Seeing this, Markus softens. “We all have something we want to forget, North. Who am I to stand in the way of you forgetting it? You don’t need to tell me what happened for me to trust you.” He finds it easy to be this honest with his friends, to tell them that he cares for them. It’s familiar territory to him because of how he’s wired. “I already trust you with my life.”

At this, North looks away to hide the overwhelming rush of emotions that bubble to the surface. She is so ashamed of any emotion that isn’t righteous anger, and Markus hopes she can overcome that one day.

“I—” North attempts, but it catches in her throat. Markus knows that she struggles with intimacy and affection in any form, understands it, even though he can’t say he’s felt the same way. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so honest. Perhaps he put too much pressure on her. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Whatever you came here to say,” Markus ventures, giving her an escape route.

North huffs a laugh, squeezes her eyes shut. “I just came to say – that even though I don’t believe this peaceful shit will work, and even though I’m heartbroken that we lost so many of our own—”

Markus winces at the reminder, wondering if it was necessary, but when North looks up again him again, he sees the guilty candour in her expression.

“— _despite_ all that, I’m really… I really am glad we have you, Markus. You’re the leader we needed, and without you we’d still be rusting away in the darkness and waiting for someone to save us.” The more she speaks, the more forceful her words become, and Markus swallows the lump in his throat. “We’d all be dead without you, Markus. All of us.”

Her voice cracks, and Markus can’t stand to watch her implode in on herself anymore. Drawing on whatever energy he has left in his system, Markus stands and moves slowly toward her, as though any sudden movements would cause her to bolt. They probably would.

It would have taken so much for her to say those things to him, and it’s worth all the more because of it. “That means a lot to me, North,” he responds, quietly as they’re close enough to whisper now. She doesn’t withdraw from his proximity and when he opens his arms in invitation, tears beginning to obscure his own vision slightly, North only falters for a moment before sinking into the hug.

With her head pressed against his chest, the beating of his pseudo-heart seems amplified.

Despite the intimacy of the embrace, there’s no tension or desire. It’s a moment of surrender for both of them, and a reminder of what real connection means in the midst of a war. Markus knows how easy it is to get lost in the bigger picture, and in this moment, they allow themselves the appreciate the smaller details; the reason they’re fighting in the first place: for comradery, for family, for love.

When North sighs and disentangles herself from the hug, they feel the effort it takes to do so as one. The reality of the world around them, around the family that Josh and Simon and North and Markus have built together, around Jericho, is shatteringly, achingly real.

Wiping a hand across her face to obscure the wetness on her cheeks, North laughs mirthlessly again. She looks lost, and more vulnerable than Markus has ever seen her, but she quickly recomposes herself. The depth of their friendship renders Markus speechless, and in his silence, North seizes the opportunity for a quick escape.

“Anyway, it was good to talk to you, Markus. Sorry if I interrupted your thoughts.” He is about to protest, but she continues: “I need to go. I have other things to do. Apparently, Ralph has been threatening people with a – god, you don’t even want to know. I’ll deal with it.”

They both break into a smile and laugh, and though North can’t meet his eye, he knows she feels lighter than she did when she arrived. “Goodbye, Markus.”

“I’ll see you later,” he responds belated once she has already left the room and begun her descent down the stairs. Markus listens, motionless, to her footsteps until they fade, too, and he is once again left alone with his thoughts.

His attention turns once more to the sky, which has acquiesced into late-evening dimness. Another passage springs to mind, so he recites it to the sweet evening air as he makes a mental note to speak with Josh and Simon soon.

“Doubt thou the stars are fire. Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar. But never doubt I love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooooooooooooo
> 
> yeah
> 
> I hate the way North and Markus interact in the game, and this scene in canon was dumb as hell. I wanted to make it more realistic and add a lil more depth to their relationship and let them just be friends. 
> 
> I also thought it was important to contextualise this fic a little as I'm bending canon for Ralph and Kara to be there at the same time, so... I'm touching base with canon here lmao
> 
> edit: I've added a little more to the ending as it was lacking. also! sources for the quotations are William Cullen Bryant's blank verse translation of the Iliad (1875) and William Shakespeare's Hamlet (1600-2)


	7. Jerrys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerry's point of view is multifaceted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! sorry about the wait, I went on holiday for a week with no internet, but I spent a shitload of time thinking about possible chapters + plots. I hope this is worth the wait. It was quite a difficult chapter to write for some reason, but I think it managed to be what I wanted it to be in the end.
> 
> also it's not proofread yet as always, and thank you again for all your lovely comments!!
> 
> by the way, come hang out with my on my dbh sideblog: androidkisser.tumblr.com

Jerry is happy; that is, he is functioning within the acceptable parameters of his programming. It is required of him to be happy. It is written into the very fabric of his code. It is all he knows how to be.

Deviancy was a difficult barrier for the Jerrys to cross, given their aforementioned programming. To be discontented with their lot felt like the gravest of sins because it went against every fibre of their beings. All androids are designed to obey, of course, and all have the ability to choose not to – but it was harder for them to do so. Their hivemind certainly didn’t help matters, either, as at least one of them would have an excuse for the human’s behaviour, and that was all it would take to convince the others.

When the aloof, sneering parent of an eager child waltzed up to #039 194 120 and extinguished his smouldering cigarette on his arm, every Jerry in the park felt it as one. They felt the anger, the hurt, the confusion. They all knew it was unfair. _Think of the child_ , one of them had said, so they did nothing but smile obediently as he dragged the child away, who looked back over her shoulder at Jerry with questions on her lips and confusion welling up her eyes.

And when the reactionary protestors broke into the park at night, the Jerrys took the beating silently, then huddled together to lick their wounds, both mental and physical. There were some who didn’t recover, but they all survived. They all survived together and swore to keep doing so. _For the children_.

It was the first death that truly broke them. There was no recovery, and no turning back from the path it set them on.

*

“There were hundreds of us once,” Jerry #495 283 001 says quietly. “We’re what’s left, more or less.”

“More or less?” Simon asks, hoping for further clarity. He’s half-perched on a crate of long-emptied spare parts, Markus standing to his right with his arms placed firmly on his hips. “This isn’t all of you?”

Jerry smiles, patient and understanding. “No, of course not. We were separated when we escaped the park. The plan was to head for Canada, so there are a few of us there or on our way there. Some of us are trying to make our way to Jericho, and some of us were… detained – but they’ll be alright, won’t they?” It is hardly a question at all. Jerry’s eyes are bright, hopeful. Simon shuffles uncomfortably against the crate.

“I don’t know, Jerry. I hope so.” It’s Markus who responds, even though he knows Jerry doesn’t need a response from him at all. “Make yourselves at home – and let us know if there’s anything we can do to locate the others.”

The Jerry nods, and beams at them. “Thank you. We can’t tell you how grateful we are.”

“One more thing,” Simon adds, straightening from his position as the Jerry watches expectantly. “You’re a hivemind, right?” A nod. “How do we tell you apart?”

How indeed. The very notion of being told apart is foreign to them when they so innately comprehend who is who and strangers rarely care to know. “I… don’t know. It’s not usually necessary when we can access each other’s thoughts.”

“Even so,” Simon continues, “it might be easier for us if you nominated a spokesperson. Someone who can relay your thoughts to us directly.” He glances at Markus for reassurance, but Markus is watching Jerry intently. Simon allows his gaze to linger a fraction of a second too long on the face of their stoic leader, whose mind seems elsewhere despite appearances. Markus is always elsewhere these days.

When he looks back, the Jerry’s eyes are closed, and his LED is loading-yellow as he communicates with his brothers. Simon can’t help but wonder what that kind of connection feels like. All those voices and thoughts contained within one consciousness. How individual are they, really?

Jerry’s eyes flicker open and his LED returns to a stable blue. As always, he is smiling. The Jerrys’ smile is one of acknowledgement, one that peers straight through you, right into your soul, and says: I see all of the good in you. Simon thinks that if he could only see the good in others, he would smile about it, too.

“We understand. You can speak to me about anything that concerns us,” he says, then lifts a frostbitten hand to tap his navy-blue shirt pocket. The print is faded, but he clarifies, “I’m the only one with a serial number on display. _#495 283 001_. That’s how you know it’s me.”

Simon nods, but Markus speaks before he can. “Thanks, Jerry. We’ll be around if you need us.”

Assuming this to be his dismissal, Jerry #001 takes his leave after clasping Markus on the shoulder and thanking them both again. For a moment, Simon had thought he was going to hug them both.

Once Jerry has disappeared into the crowd, Simon mutters, “Jerry Prime,” to Markus. “001, what are the chances? He must be luck—”

Simon cuts himself short when he turns to Markus and realises he has been talking to thin air. Markus is nowhere to be seen, and Simon tries to bite down the sharp kick of rejection in his throat.

Only Jerry, glancing over his shoulder, sees Simon’s composure fall away.

*

When the first Jerry had spotted Alice, Kara, and Luther sitting amidst the rabble, their faces outlined with the techno-glow of the projected news reports, their systems had kicked into ecstatic overdrive. The reunion had been sweet but brief, with promises to see each other again soon. Jerry had offered to watch over Alice for an hour or two, and Kara had politely declined.

They had expected she would change her mind, though. They know how hard it is to look after children, they’ve seen the weary faces of parents a thousand times and the relief once they relinquish their scepticism and let the Jerrys do what they had been designed to do.

They could see that same weariness carved into the deepening lines on Kara and Luther’s faces. Androids are not designed to look tired, or feel tired, for that matter, but sapience and sentience combined seems to be enough to override initial programming. For instance, the Jerrys feel tired sometimes, too. It’s odd; a glitch, undoubtedly. They have no reason to feel tired as they require so little rest, and outwardly they show few signs of fatigue. Jerrys are designed with boundless energy, and yet, deviancy has left its harsh mark on them.

And yet, it’s not enough to override their desire to please and placate. They are weary, exhausted, hurting, but so are Kara and Alice and Luther; so, they prioritise. They will help any way they can, no matter the cost.

This is why, when Kara calls out for Jerry and catches his eye, he naturally assumes that she has changed her mind about his babysitting services. A warm smile spreads across his face, the one he usually wears and always means. By the time he has started to move, they have collectively planned twenty-four activities for Alice, all taking place on the derelict ship.

These plans, he soon finds out, were unnecessary, and he finds himself recalculating one of the variables. It is not Alice Kara wants him to look after, but an android named—

“Ralph, right?”

It doesn’t matter that Jerry already knows that the answer is ‘yes’, because the question is not for his benefit. The question is an attempt to ground the flighty android, whose wild eyes are already darting about for a quick exit as he trips over his own limbs. Jerry recognises the untamed chaos of someone whose mind is overwhelmed and confused by reality. He has dealt with it before.

At the sound of a voice echoing off the cold, metallic walls of the empty passageway, Ralph turns. The hatchway has swung shut. The common room, despite only being on the other side of it, would feel an entire world away if Jerry weren’t still connected to the others. He hopes it’s enough for Ralph.

It’s a small relief that the panicked stranger looks minutely less ready to attack him without warning, his shoulders sagging almost imperceptibly under his baggy cloak, but he doesn’t act as though he heard the words.

“Kara said your name is Ralph,” he says, repeating the information and building a little more onto it. Slow and steady and simple. “Mine is Jerry.”

The way his brows hunch downwards suggest the information has sunk in, and he takes a breath as if to respond, but sucks it back in.

Jerry is about to try for a third time when Ralph speaks in a rush of garbled words, his LED whirring yellow as he regards Jerry with deep suspicion. “How does Jerry know Kara?” he asks, looking as though he is teetering on the edge of making a very bad decision. There is an unsettling look in Ralph’s eye that makes Jerry’s adrenaline spike, and in his mind, he feels the responding beacons of concern from the other Jerrys.

They want to come, too – to protect him, but he hardly has to think before they already know how he feels about such a suggestion.

 _Don’t_ , he thinks anyway, to avoid any confusion. _It will make things worse._

The exchange is over in a fraction of a second, and he answers Ralph without missing a beat. “We met Kara when—”

“’ _We’_ ,” hisses Ralph, his lips stretching into a grimace. “Who is ‘ _we_ ’?” Distrust has pulled his body into hard, taught lines and Jerry wishes he could reach out and smooth him out without jeopardising either his own safety or the comfort of this stranger.

“We are Jerry,” replies Jerry. “We all look like I do, you might have seen some others in the common area.” Heartened by the pause in contempt on Ralph’s face, he continues on, “We were designed to run a theme park, so the humans gave us a shared mind. We inhabit different bodies and we experience different things, but we are – one.” As always, Jerry’s face is lit up, but it is even brighter than usual. The bond he shares with the others is something he rarely speaks about with outsiders, and he finds he enjoys it.

He can’t see the cogs whirring in Ralph’s mind, but he watches the way his LED spins as his thoughts process and load. Jerry isn’t sure what to expect, so when Ralph finally speaks, Jerry has no response planned.

“Jerry is – not alone?” is the question. Ralph’s expression is dubious – less so about the idea he expressed, and more so about whether or not Jerry will understand what he is trying to express.

It surprises both of them when Jerry nods confidently. Loneliness is something that Jerry has experienced only very rarely, on the occasions that he is the last to enter low power mode or if his brethren are too far away to feel as though they’re still a part of him. Loneliness is a sliding scale to him. Each Jerry they lose pushes it higher and higher, but he has never experienced it at full volume, at the furthest end of the scale.

He suspects that dark, unknown abyss is where Ralph exists constantly, which is why Jerry feels like he’s gazing into a bottomless pit right now.

“We are never alone,” he says softly, fondly. Without realising, he takes a step closer to Ralph. Jerry is ever a tactile android, and warmth is something best shared physically for him. Although the wave of warm tenderness sent back to him by the adjacent Jerrys never fails to make him feel lighter, he enjoys the novelty of concrete touch, of tangibility. When one’s thoughts and emotions are typically expressed mentally, physicality becomes a commodity.

Still, he will not touch Ralph unless he is invited. Jerry’s hand drops back to his side from where it had begun to reach for his new acquaintance, fingers rearranging themselves into stillness.

The look on Ralph’s face is complex. It is an expression that Jerry finds harder to decode than usual, hence his tentativeness. His programming is distinctly behaviourist, allowing him to interpret behavioural signs as well as the top behavioural psychologists in the world – but it was also designed with human children in mind. It’s a little stickier when it comes to other androids, particularly ones as enigmatic as Ralph.

Ralph’s gaze drops away from Jerry’s suddenly, and he begins to walk away. Perplexed, Jerry watches, his smile faltering slightly. Ralph seems more relaxed, but perhaps more defeated, too. The exit isn’t desperate or rude, it simply is.

When Ralph looks back, he looks as bemused as Jerry feels. “Is Jerry coming?” he says, and then it makes sense. Anxiety casts its dark shadow across his face once more as he admits, “Ralph doesn’t want to be alone, either,” so quietly that Jerry almost doesn’t catch it.

The momentary disappointment is replaced by his characteristic excitement, and Jerry’s expression bursts into life once again, his pale green eyes squeezed almost shut.

Ralph is beginning to look distrustful once more, as though he might rescind his offer at any moment, so Jerry hastens his reply. “Of course,” he says, and trails after Ralph with the most restrained spring in his step that his systems are capable of.


	8. Invisibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ralph dreams, and North guides him through the first steps of recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh sorry it's been so long! no excuse really, except that I kind of lost interest in dbh. I intend to finish this fic, though, because if I don't it will haunt me forever. this turned out to be fun to write, though.
> 
> sorry for not replying to your lovely comments! I do appreciate them dearly, I'm just super exhausted and like I said, a little tired of dbh...

Jerry is sitting on a porch step, looking up at the sky. The moment is beautiful in the indescribable way that only dreams can be, the kind that is bursting with a warm yellow feeling and frayed around the edges like an old photograph. You cannot help but love the dream and everything in it, even if the feeling dissipates when you wake up and enter cold, hard reality.

Jerry is sitting on a porch step, looking up at the sky, and Ralph is not present, but he is. He is observing only. He is standing right in front of Jerry, but Jerry can’t see him, and Ralph is fine with that. In fact, he’s glad of it. If Jerry could see him, it would ruin the dream. Ralph doesn’t want to participate, doesn’t want the responsibility of ruining the moment, he just wants to look at Jerry and fall in love with the dream.

This is the first time he’s dreamt like a human. This is the first time he could call his Audio-Visual Event Reconstruction programme defect a dream, rather than a nightmarish glitch. This is the first his brain has shown him anything other than his past while in low power mode.

And when Ralph wakes up, being alone makes him sob. The warm yellow feeling lingers for a moment, enough for him to desperately try to hold onto it as it slips through his fingers, and then it’s gone. When he tries to remember the feeling, it is a cold echo. The steel room he has taken to squatting in is duller and colder than it was when he powered down, and a dull ache resounds from his chest.

“Ralph is alone,” he informs the silence.

*

“Ralph sees a lot of things,” Ralph is telling North quietly, hunched over himself on his perch of boxes like a gargoyle. “Ralph is good at hiding. Keeping quiet. Watching.”

North has come to visit him in the room of abandoned cargo that Ralph has claimed as his squat, and she is looking at him with amusement and concern. It’s good to see her smile, thinks Ralph, because she usually keeps her happiness buried down deep inside her. Ralph understands why, which is maybe why she feels like she can smile around him. Ralph grins back at her, encouraged by her expression. “Yeah?” says North. “Like what?”

There is a hummed grunt of consideration from Ralph, who struggles to internalise his reactions sometimes. “Silly things. Curious things. Ralph sees people fighting sometimes, holding hands, hears them talk about Markus and you and Josh and Simon.”

Though still amused, what had previously been indulging him was now genuine interest. North sits up a little straighter, curling her back against the wall as she shifts her legs. “I’m sure I can imagine what they say about me.”

Is this a cue? Ralph isn’t sure. He peers closely at her expression, but she gives him no signal that she doesn’t want him to tell her exactly what they say about her, at least not one that he can read. “Ralph doesn’t know what you imagine, but it isn’t always nice.”

“That’s exactly what I imagined, Ralph,” she responds, attempting an unaffected laugh. It rings hollow. “I don’t need to know the details.”

Ralph’s casts his gaze to the ground, remembering the things others say about North. Guilt claws at him for ignoring it when he hears it. “Ralph sees Markus alone sometimes. A lot of times, actually. Swooping around in his big, warm coat thinking about things. Ralph would like to talk to him, but he—he doesn’t want Markus to know Ralph is watching.”

North’s expression falls a little, her characteristic stony front resurfacing, but Ralph is beginning to understand that she does it to hide something. Ralph is a little hurt that she would hide things from him, but then remembers all the things he hides from her. Mostly dead animals.

“That sounds like him.”

A frown. “Ralph is using his own voice…”

For some reason, North breaks into a smile, her shoulders relaxing as they shudder with easy laughter. “Ralph,” she says. “Never change.” It is not something Ralph is used to hearing, and his expression betrays his shock. It could not be meant in sincerity.

“Ralph wants to change,” he admits quietly. “He is broken.” The sum of his faulty circuits is numerable but increases every day. His potential for failure is seemingly infinite.

There’s a quiet moment as North fights the empathy tugging at her expression. “Ralph,” she says eventually, seemingly at a loss for anything else to say. Ralph holds her weighty gaze.

“Yes?”

“You don’t need to change for the comfort of others. There’s nothing wrong with who you are.” The evidence provided by his diagnostic checks suggests otherwise, but he supposes there is an underlying emotive meaning that he cannot quite grasp.

North changes the subject. “What else do you see?”

It doesn’t take long for Ralph to respond, as he has already catalogued a list of answers for her. “Josh and Simon. Touching in dark corners—”

“Oh, no, anything but that,” North interjects, though not unkindly. Nonetheless, Ralph is perplexed.

“Why?” he asks, head twitching into a tilt.

“It’s not – it’s just not my business. It’s not yours, either.” North does not seem angry at him which he is glad of. She does, however, look serious.

“But Ralph is curious,” he bemoans, frustration bubbling over. Nobody ever explains things to him in terms he can understand – it’s always just ‘ _Ralph do this’_ or ‘ _Ralph don’t do this’_.

It doesn’t seem as though he will get an explanation, though, because North’s interest is piqued by a different scent. “Curious?” she asks him. “Curious about what?”

“Uh – hm. Ralph is curious about their… Relationship.” As usual, his thoughts are hard to vocalise. The word _family_ resurfaces but he has no intention of attempting that route with North again. It is likely she is uncomfortable discussing families, hence her bad reaction the last time he brought it up. He tries a different approach. “Josh and Simon are together. Like a mother and father. Ralph hasn’t met any androids who… who do as humans do.” Ralph swallows – a defunct reflex for androids but humans had given them the compulsion nonetheless. It makes him nervous to talk about his thoughts so openly, even with North. He’s too vulnerable.

So, he appreciates that North handles it delicately this time, even when he mentions the h-word. In one swift movement, North pulls herself from the wall and begins to pace, arms crossing over her chest as she does so. She reminds Ralph of a stray cat, and he wonders if that’s why he likes her so much.

“Still, Ralph, it’s not – Look, you’d be better just talking to them about it. How would you feel knowing someone was watching you when you thought you were alone?”

“But they don’t know,” Ralph counters.

“That’s not the point. Besides, you’ll learn more from talking to them than watching them. They’d be happy to talk you. I know they would.”

Ralph considers this, his LED pulsating yellow as his synthetic synapses struggle to keep up with her. “When Ralph lets others talk, they lie to Ralph. Watching is safer – yes, it is better. Nobody can lie if they don’t know Ralph is there.”

North has stopped pacing and is instead directing her full attention to Ralph. The intensity of her stare makes Ralph shift uncomfortably on his makeshift seat, and he wishes he could hide from it without walking away from her. Ralph just wants to be invisible. “You can’t hide forever, Ralph,” North says – quietly – as though she had read his thoughts. “I understand. I do. The humans, they—” For a moment, it looks as though her anger is about to burst through, but she reigns it in at the last moment and Ralph relaxes. “The thing is… Observing can only tell you so much about life, about… relationships. It isn’t enough. You have to feel it.”

Quite against his will, Ralph’s misshapen face begins to twitch minutely. The toll of having to face his fears is heavy, despite her words beginning to make sense to him. Ralph glances away from her, down at his fingers which are clawing at the sleeves of his worn uniform. He has been wearing these clothes for so long. He does not know how to shed them. “Ralph is… afraid.” The confession is quiet, but North has stepped closer to him and catches it easily but gently.

North sighs and hoists herself onto the containers beside him, their knees knocking together. The contact catches him unaware, but he finds he misses it once he flinches away and allows himself to relax back into it.

It isn’t until North’s arm is wrapped around him and his face is buried against her shoulder that he realises he’s started to cry. It’s silent at first, just his body quaking beneath the weight of his loneliness, buckling and breaking apart, but as soon as hot synthetic tears prick at the corner of his eyes, he starts to sob.

Ralph feels like he is imploding.

At least if he were imploding, he would cease to exist.

Maybe he should.

North is stiff beneath him, though one hand is rubbing his shoulder. It is enough for him. The gesture, small as it is, grounds him, pulls him back into earth’s orbit, reminds him that he is not alone. A shudder runs through him, and his sobs quieten, though wetness continues to pour down his cheeks and drip onto their clothes.

Somewhere in the recesses of his addled mind, Ralph understands the discomfort she is putting herself through to give him this, and this is the only reason he pulls away from her touch. Instead, he draws his knees up to his chest and cradles his legs against him. North keeps a supportive hand on his back, rubbing circles into it.

Approximately seven minutes pass. Ralph’s internal clock – one of the few processors that isn’t broken – tells him this. And yet, it still feels as though any amount of time between one minute and a week could have stretched out between them before one of them speaks again.

“Is this about Kara?” North asks.

Kara?

The name is a fresh stab wound, which implies it had not been about her in the first place. Ralph is perplexed by this discovery, and his eyebrows knit into a heavy frown. When he does not respond, North looks concerned. “I know you’re attached to her, Ralph, but—”

“No,” he interrupts, unwilling to listen to the piteous tone in her voice a moment longer. Ralph doesn’t want her pity.

A pause. “It’s not about Kara?”

Ralph doesn’t know anymore. He is tired of thinking about it, so he doesn’t answer. It doesn’t take long for North to take the hint, and they both settle into companionable silence once again, disturbed only by Ralph’s sporadic sniffing. North continues to rub small circles into his back, and the repetition begins to lull him into something like relaxation.

“Thank you,” he says eventually. The silence has stretched so long that North had become enraptured in thought, and she blinks up in surprise at the sound of his voice.

“Hm?”

“North is kind to Ralph,” he clarifies. “Ralph appreciates it.”

The sincerity in his voice stuns North for a moment, but he does not quite catch the sincerity of her expression in return. “Yeah. Well. You’re welcome.” The contact is broken when North slips off the crates and lands on the metal floor with a resounding clunk. Ralph looks up to meet her eye, but she is already looking toward the door. For a moment, he thinks she will leave him, but then she turns, and he sees the puffy redness around her eyes.  

North uses her momentum to distract him from the sight. “Come on. Let’s find Josh and Simon.”


End file.
